


The Wanderer and The Princess

by JayceCarter



Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rough Sex, Slow Romance, Smut, Snark, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: Nate needs some female company for the night, and he's never been picky about where it comes from. The pretty girl who calls him out on his flirting and pick-up lines seems a great distraction for the night.Angela has no love for the smooth talking and arrogant man who couldn't even remember her name. Taking him for all he was worth seemed fair turnabout.As the two pit their skills against each other, they wonder the same thing: What's the worst that could happen?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this a while and decided to fix up the start and post it because. . . I'm dragging me feet on my kinktober prompt for today. Won't be crazy long. Like, 15k words, maybe?

The smoke of the Third Rail filled Nate’s lungs, seeping into the areas covered in grime by days of travel. The smoke might dirty them in a different way, but it was a dirty he liked, one he understood, one from the world he missed.

 

Magnolia’s voice filled the bar, the patrons drunk and swaying along, all pulled in by the notes that woman could hit. She gave a smile and wink from the stage, and Nate returned them, blowing her a kiss.

 

Oh, Magnolia always sent his pulse racing, maybe because she didn’t do repeats. Neither did he, but being told no did something to him, made him crave it. Women just didn’t tell him no, and he was always a glutton for punishment.

 

Still, plenty of others. He stopped by the bar, Charlie’s attitude drawing a smile. Only person he couldn’t charm. “Beer, please.”

 

The robot set the beer on the bartop, complete with an under-his-breath insult, amazing feat since as far as Nate knew, he didn’t have any breath.

 

“Hey, Boss.” MacCready took the seat beside Nate.

 

“I have a name.”

 

“Sure, but if I had to remember everyone’s name, I’d go crazy. Easier to just stick to basics. You needing help or just stopping in for some fun?”

 

“Fun.”

 

MacCready made a sound, one Nate was pretty sure wasn’t approving. The kid never approved of his vices, but forget him. Nate wasn’t trying to be a better man because of some promise to a kid.

 

“Any advice on a mark?”

 

MacCready shook his head. “You think I’m about to help you scam some poor woman into bed?”

 

“I don’t scam anyone. And you’ve seen the smiles I get around here; clearly, women aren’t too mad about it later, are they?”

 

“You are a terrible person.” MacCready took a drink of his own beer before his gaze narrowed near the back. “See that girl over there?” He nodded at a woman sitting at a table, playing a game of cards.

 

“Yeah. Don’t think I’ve seen her before.”

 

“She’s in and out a lot. Name’s Angela.”

 

“What did she do to you that leaves you offering her up like a present to me?”

 

“We have a long history, she and I. I punched her in the face once. You want yourself a fun challenge, though? She’s it.”

 

Nate watched the woman play cards, her red hair pulled back into a ponytail, jeans and a tank top on. She had a glass beside her with, perhaps, whiskey in it. Her lips tipped up, into a smile, as she played a card then took the caps from the middle of the table.

 

“You don’t think I have a shot, do you?”

 

MacCready chuckled. “Nah, I don’t, but it’ll be fun to watch you try. I figure at least one of you will get screwed tonight, and that suits me fine.”

 

Nate leaned over the bar to Charlie. “What’s that girl having? Fine, I want two of those.” Nate took the two glasses of whiskey, since he’d guessed right, and walked to the woman as she pulled another grouping of caps to her side of the table.

 

“This is shit. Can’t win anything. I’m out.” One of the drifters gathered his paltry sum of caps left, stuffing them into his pockets before storming off.

 

The other two players followed the same thing, taking their caps and leaving only insults.

 

“You up for a game?” She leaned back in her chair.

 

Nate set down the glass of whiskey for her and slid it across the table. “Your drink was running low.”

 

“No, it wasn’t. And you’re too good at this for such a lame try.” She picked up the glass, darting her gaze to Charlie who lifted on arm in something that could almost be a wave. “Can’t be too careful.”

 

“Men try to drug you a lot?”

 

“Sometimes, but only ever once. So, what brings you to my little corner of this bar?”

 

“Your eyes-“

 

“-try again. I don’t like games.”

 

He chuckled and took a drink of his own whiskey. He had to admit, she was refreshing. He’d almost grown used to women who fell at his first compliment, at the ones who didn’t require any work. He liked work; he liked the chase.

 

This was a woman to chase.

 

“MacCready said we might get along.”

 

Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at MacCready. “Did he now? Trust me, don’t take that as a compliment.” She took a drink of the whiskey. “You want to tell me your name?”

 

“Most people just call me Wanderer.”

 

“Is that what I am? Most people?”

 

He leaned an elbow on the table and moved closer, setting a hand on her thigh. “Not tonight, you’re not.”

 

“Do you know my name? I’m sure MacCready told you.”

 

Fuck. He searched, trying not to let the panic show on his face. “How much did you win, sweetheart?”

 

She snorted. “Sweetheart? Smooth deflection.”

 

He gripped the edge of her chair and slid it closer, so his legs sat on the outside of hers, a subtle show of strength he’d found women liked. “You ever have a tour of the Statehouse before?”

 

“You stealing Hancock’s lines now, or just name dropping?”

 

He placed his hand back on her thigh, sliding it up to her hip. Damn, he wanted to dip beneath that tank top, to touch her skin, to have that wicked tongue of hers doing things so much more interesting than turning him down. “No, just trying not to play games. If you weren’t going to bed with me, you would have told me off the second I sat down. You don’t strike me as someone who plays coy when she wants something.”

 

“You think you know me or something?”

 

He slid his hand up her side, staying on the outside of her shirt, thumb brushing the curve of her breast. “I’m really good at reading women. You’re one who takes what she wants, someone who doesn’t feel likes she has to play by society’s rules. So, why are you playing their game? Come on, sweetheart, I know you want to.”

 

She tipped her glass back, downing the remaining whiskey in three large gulps before slamming the glass down and wiping her mouth with her arm. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Let’s go.”

 

He stood, capturing her hand and pulling her to her feet. “You won’t regret this.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure about that.” She offered MacCready a middle finger before letting Nate drag her out of the Third Rail.

 

Outside, he pressed her against a wall, attacked her throat with an aggressive kiss. Don’t let them think; he’d learned that lesson well. Lulls in attention could send a woman running, let her think about all the reasons she shouldn’t do this.

 

He’d never force a woman, never try to drug a woman, or fuck one too drunk to consent, but he was all for using whatever he could to lure them into his bed for a night. And this woman? She was one who could think too damned hard if he let her.

 

She gripped the fabric of his vault suit, short, rough nails biting into his skin. She pushed his shoulders. “I’m not into an audience.”

 

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into the Statehouse, then up the stairs to his room at the top floor.

 

He hoisted her up with a grip on her thighs, then let her back hit the door to close it. He ignored her lips, moving to kiss at her throat. Everyone tasted of dust and radiation, but he’d grown used to that. Her pulse sped beneath his touches and she leaned into him, hips moving to get closer, for more.

 

This kept him going, the desperate way someone touched him, the way for just a fucking minute there was nothing else in the whole world. It wasn’t enough for it to just be a body, but it had to be insane, it had to be passion, it had to drown him.

 

He gripped her ponytail with one hand, yanking it back to expose her throat.

 

She pinched his side hard enough he almost dropped her. “Watch the rough stuff,” she whispered before nipping his ear.

 

He chuckled, releasing her hair, setting her down, and taking a step backward. “Fair enough. Come on, let’s get those clothes off.” He stumbled once as he walked backward, beckoning her forward with a crooked finger.

 

“Careful. Wouldn’t want you to fall and hit your head.”

 

His calves hit the bed, making him frown. He hadn’t realized he’d moved that far. Who really cared? He laid back when she got closer and crawled over him. “I’d never let anything as trivial as a head injury stop this, sweetheart.”

 

She leaned down and bit his neck, a harsh snap of teeth that had him arching up and moaning. He tried to pull her back, to pull her teeth away from him, but his arm didn’t cooperate. It just slid against her side in a stroke.

 

Two beers and half a glass of whiskey. Not enough for this level of intoxication. He was always careful not to get too drunk because fuck knew he couldn’t get it up when he drank too much.

 

Her hips shifted, grinding herself against him.

 

Yeah, he was able to get it up, so it wasn’t too much alcohol.

 

Nate reached up, trying to grab her thigh, but his hand wouldn’t move. What the fuck? Panic started, somewhere in the back of his skull, but she felt so fucking good. Fuck panic. As long as she didn’t stop, he wouldn’t worry about panicking until later.

 

Then she did stop, sitting up and gazing down at him, lips in that same smile she had when she’d taken all the caps off the table. “What’s my name?”

 

He tried to speak but nothing came out.

 

She leaned down, toying with his earlobe before offering one more nip. “You may not have remembered my name, but you got one thing right. I am the sort of girl who takes what I want.”

 

Everything went dark.

 

#

 

Nate woke with a gasp, rolling to his side and patting at his chest. What the hell? His gaze went down his body, checking for injuries.

 

That fucking woman from the night before. She could have taken a kidney.

 

Did people even steal kidneys anymore?

 

Probably only cannibals.

 

_Fuck, focus Nate._

 

His clothing was still in place, his body in the same position he’d been in when he’d passed out. He got to his feet, body heavy and about as useful as a newborn brahmin. His gun sat on the nightstand, along with his armor.

 

His pack? Gone. All his caps, his scrap, everything. Gone.

 

The bitch had robbed him! She’d drugged him and taken all his shit.

 

He rushed to the desk, to the hidden drawer in the bottom, the place he’d put the courser chip.

 

Gone. Just a note and a handful of caps in its place.

 

 

_Wanderer,_

 

_I left you your armor, gun, and enough caps to last a few days. You’re welcome. The next time you call me Sweetheart, I’ll take your balls with me._

 

_~Angela_

 

 

 

Nate drew his hand into a fist, crushing the note.

 

MacCready was right where he knew the kid would be, in the VIP room, hoping for a job, reminding him of Dogmeat when he wanted scraps.

 

Nate threw the crumpled note at MacCready, hitting the kid in the chest with it. “The fuck, RJ? I thought we were friends.”

 

MacCready chuckled, leaning over to take the note and smooth it out. He laughed harder as he read it. “Ah, buddy, it’s your own fault. If you weren’t so focused on trying to get into her pants, you might have noticed when she dosed your whiskey with med-x. That’s an old trick, you know? Don’t look at me like that, I knew she wasn’t gonna hurt you, but I thought you could use getting taken down a peg.”

 

“If she just took my pack, I wouldn’t care. I’d laugh this off. She took the courser chip!”

 

MacCready’s smile slid off at that. “Shoot. Sorry, buddy, I didn’t think she’d want that. Guess she’s moved up in the world.”

 

“Well, since you screwed up here, you’re gonna help me find her. You know what that chip means to me, and I need it back.”

 

MacCready rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “Honestly? Might be easier to just kill another courser.”

 

“The last one shot me four times.”

 

“I know. Still might be easier.”

 

Nate jammed a finger in MacCready’s face. “We’re finding her and getting my chip back. Oh, and you’re paying for supplies since I’m now broke thanks to your little prank, asshole.”

 

MacCready stood and gathered his things, grinning. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t sound sorry.”

 

“I’m not. You deserved it, and even if she shoots me? Worth it.”

 

Nate glared at MacCready’s back, wondering he could possibly turn the asshole into flames by a look alone. He wasn’t a man given to a temper often, but somehow this woman had gotten beneath his skin.

 

In his day, women were pretty and fun and great distractions. They were company anad lace and ruffles. They weren’t competition, and they sure as hell didn’t best him like this.

 

She was gonna be sorry for pulling this on him, for screwing with him, for thinking she could outsmart him.

 

The only thing she managed?

 

He sure as fuck wasn’t going to forget her name.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The clink of the bottlecaps in Angela’s pocket made her grin. Served the asshole right for thinking he could play with her, for thinking he could treat her like some random girl he could use and then throw away.

 

Men like him got under her skin, men who thought a woman was worth what was between her legs and nothing more. He hadn’t even asked her her name, hadn’t asked a fucking question about her.

 

He’d walked up, all smooth words and grandstanding, so sure she’d fall right into line. He'd expected to charm her panties right off and leave her the next morning with a memory and a fake name.

 

She’d had to fight the eye roll.

 

Or maybe she hadn’t fought that at all. The less interested she had seemed, the more determined he’d been to get her into bed.

 

A bit of med-x in his whiskey when he was too busy trying to stare at her cleavage had given her an easy mark.

 

And fucking over a friend of MacCready’s? Well, that was just a bonus.

 

All his shit had gotten her nearly a grand in caps, but the real score?

 

The courser chip. How the fuck had he even gotten his hands on that? Not many people would know what that was, and even if they knew, they wouldn’t have a clue what to do with one.

 

Was he just lucky and found the thing? Could he have actually killed a courser? Did he have a contact in the Institute? Did he have a clue what he had? It made her wonder exactly who she'd ripped off. Not that she cared; she'd stolen from bigger fish than him enough times. She'd pried his name from Daisy while she sold the gear.

 

Nate Jacobs. Vault dweller. Man-whore. Constant pain in the ass for the commonwealth.

 

Didn’t matter, she’d known who would pay the good money for it. That little baby had netted her another two thousand caps. Easy money.

 

She rolled a bullet over her fingers, a nervous habit she’d picked up as a kid in Little Lamplight. Anything to keep her hands moving, to have something to do other than waiting around.

 

It had taken three days to sell everything and make it back home, to the top floor of the old apartment building outside of Diamond City she’d taken. It worked well, giving her a spot close enough to the city that raiders and super mutants stayed clear, but far enough away to give her privacy.

 

Her line of work required a few things: privacy, an ability to lie, and loose morals.

 

She had all of those.

 

The door shut with a click behind her, and she threw the lock, then slid her finger over the terminal keys to activate her turrets.

 

The screen flashed a warning. No connected turrets?

 

Angela reached for her gun, but someone slammed her against the wall, beside the terminal, pinning her there with a far larger body.  

 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Nate hissed into her ear.

 

 

 

#

 

Nate used a grip on the back of her neck to hold her still, though she seemed to freeze at the sound of his voice.

 

She shook, and he almost let her go. Was she crying? Fuck, he was a sucker for crying women. Though, some part of him was soothed by the idea of her crying, by making her into what he was used to, what he expected from her. The fact she's bested him was a fluke, and the delicate sobbing woman was the real her, the one he understood, could deal with.

 

Nope. Fuck her, she was laughing. “So, RJ helped you find my place, did he?”

 

“I’d watch the jokes. I’m not in a very joking mood right now.” He slid a hand down her side, over her hip.

 

“Looking for round two, are you?”

 

“I’m checking you for weapons.” He patted his hands over her ass, then up the insides of her legs, checking for blades or guns. Each one he found, he tossed to the floor. He tried hard to ignore how damned good she still felt beneath his hands. 

 

“Is that what they call it now? You looking for a holster for your gun?”

 

“I wouldn’t get my gun anywhere near you. Wouldn’t trust I’d get it back afterward.” He shoved her harder against the wall when she tried to move away from it.

 

Once all the weapons had been removed, he spun her, handcuffing her wrists together in front of her and shoving her so she fell onto the couch.

 

“Where is it?”

 

“Your charm? Must have left it in the Third Rail.”

 

He pulled a chair over, turning it backward and sitting, forearms along the back. “The courser chip. Small, black, was in the desk.”

 

“Is that what it was? It looked shiny and high tech.” Her shoulders shrugged as she combed her hair out of her face with her fingers. “I already sold it.”

 

“To who?” He tried to pull his temper back, to not lose it over the knowledge that she’d sold the thing he needed to find his son.

 

“I don’t know his name. A client I sell all my high tech shit to.”

 

“You will take me to him.”

 

“Like hell, I will. I earned those caps.”

 

“Don’t care about the caps. Keep ‘em. I need the chip.”

 

“Have some sentimental attachment to it?” She crossed her legs, the action drawing his gaze to her jean-clad thighs and the apex there.

 

Fuck. He jerked his gaze up, but her smile said she’d caught him.

 

“No. But it’s mine and I need it. Went through a lot of work to get it the first time. You were gone for three days, and when you remove the time it took to sell my shit to Daisy, which by the way I’m not happy about, and travel time here, it means you couldn’t have sold it to someone too far outside of Goodneighbor.”

 

“My client isn’t the sort of person you want to screw with. Let this one go, _Wanderer_.”

 

“I can’t, _sweetheart_. You’ll take me there.”

 

“What exactly could you possibly offer me to make me do that?”

 

“How much did you get for all my stuff, including the chip?”

 

“Three thousand caps.”

 

He nodded. Not a bad price, which meant the girl could negotiate. “If you take me to who you sold it to, I’ll let you keep the three grand you already have and I’ll pay you double that. It means dealing with me will have netted you nine thousand caps. You know that’s a good deal.”

 

She pressed her lips together and lifted her gaze to the ceiling, an obvious attempt to look like she was thinking. “How will I know you’ll pay up? You could just decide to shoot me.”

 

“You know MacCready. If I didn’t pay my debts, would he work with me?”

 

“Alright, deal. I guess that much might be worth putting up with you for a few days.”

 

“A few days?”

 

She shrugged. “I’ve got to leave a note for the client and then wait for him to find me at our usual meeting place. Doesn’t happen immediately. He’s big on security. Oh, and you’ll still have to pay me the caps even if you meet him and realize you aren’t getting your shiny chip back. You know that, right?”

 

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll get it back.” He had to. Whoever it was, he’d give them caps, do jobs, or just kill them if he needed to. Whatever it took, he’d do it. That chip was his way to find Shaun.

 

She held up her wrists. “Alright, Wanderer, let’s get these off and go earn me my caps.”

 

Nate let out a harsh laugh. “I don’t think so. You’ve already proven I shouldn’t trust you. You’ll keep those on until we’re done.”

 

“Seriously? You’re going to make me spend three days in cuffs? Look, I told you, I’m not into the rough stuff.”

 

Nate grabbed her cuffed wrists and pulled her to standing. “You drugged me. Seems you’re into rough stuff.” He hauled her to the bedroom, then hooked another pair to the headboard.

 

“I can’t sleep in my clothing.”

 

“Should have thought about that before you drugged me.”

 

“I wasn’t even wearing this before I drugged you, so how could I think about it then, smartass?”

 

He rolled his eyes but bent down to pull her shoes off, tossing them in a pile. He wasn’t about to strip her anymore. She could stay dressed as she slept, a choice best for both of them. As pissed as he was, he hadn’t missed how her shirt clung to her waist, the way her jeans cupped her ass. Her with less clothing was a very bad idea.

 

She distracted him, and she’d already proven herself perfectly willing to use that distraction to her advantage. If he lost her again, who knew if he could find her.

 

Nate pulled his own shirt off before getting into the bed beside her. “Did you save anything else from my stuff or sell it all?”

 

“Anything specific you were looking for?”

 

“My pack.”

 

“Sorry. All gone.”

 

Nate rubbed his fingers against the bare skin of his left ring finger, the tan line there that hadn’t faded even after months in the Commonwealth sun. Of course, she hadn’t saved it. If she’d even found the ring, sewn into the lining of the pack for safekeeping, she’d have tossed it.

 

Hell, if she knew how much it meant to him, she’d probably have spit on it first.

 

“Figured as much. Go to bed, sweetheart. Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a walk.”

 

 

#

 

Angela woke with someone wrapped around her. She lifted her head to find an arm slung around her waist, long fingers clutching her hip.

 

And behind her? Well, she’d been poked with enough erections in her life to recognize them, along with the gentle thrusting of a man who hadn’t woken up yet.

 

How did she get herself into positions like this? Handcuffed to a bed with a sleeping man rutting against her ass.

 

Right, because being a thief had seemed like a good idea to her. Make money, meet new people, steal their shit. It was the best plan she’d come up with.

 

She shifted, trying to ease the ache in her shoulders, but the action caused her to press back against him.

 

He groaned, fingers digging in as he pushed his hips forward harder, seeking the friction, seeking some sort of satisfaction.

 

And, fuck her, but she wanted that same satisfaction. In that moment, with his hot breath on her neck, his cock pressing against her ass, she wanted him. She wanted him to wake up, to roll her onto her stomach and push into her. He’d pull down her jeans, angle her hips up and-

 

No.

 

She pulled her hands into fists and reminded herself that she needed to keep herself in check. He couldn’t be trusted, and the last thing she needed was getting herself caught up in whatever this was.

 

Instead, she brought her head backward, into the bridge of his nose.

 

“Fucking hell!” He yanked away. His voice came out muffled, and she twisted to find him covering his nose with his hands. “What was that for?”

 

Angela nodded toward his jeans, which didn’t do much to hide his erection. “You were using me as a sex doll in your sleep.”

 

His gaze dropped to his crotch like he’d never seen his own hard-on before. “Fuck.” His mouth snapped shut.

 

Smothering an apology?

 

She chuckled.

 

“It’s your own fault. I was supposed to burn off some steam the other night, but someone drugged me instead. Then I had to spend the next few nights chasing your ass.”

 

“You need it that bad? You’ve got a hand buddy, use it. That business comes near me again, you won’t get it back.”

 

He pulled his hands back, blood covering them. He reached into a pack Angela didn’t notice, one she knew wasn’t his old one, and pulled a stimpack.

 

“You managed to buy yourself new stuff? Must not have stolen enough from you.”

 

“MacCready loaned caps to me.”

 

“If you needed a loan from him, how are you going to pay me?”

 

He injected the stimpack before unlatching the handcuffs hooked to the headboard but left the ones around her wrists. “I had to borrow it because you took all my traveling caps. The rest of the money is safe at my settlements, so don’t worry, I can pay.”

 

“Settlements? You big shit or something?”

 

“Or something. Come on, let’s eat something before we go.”

 

Angela sat up, trying to hide the wince at the pain that shot up her back. So, sleeping handcuffed?

 

Not fun, and not something she was looking forward to repeating.

 

Her day was not going the way she’d hoped.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 Nate pulled Angela into the Statehouse. A few of the neighborhood watch gave him looks, but most ignored him.

 

They’d pushed themselves to make it to Goodneighbor in a day, the trip wearing him down until all he wanted to do was sleep. The only quick stop had been at a mailbox she’d said was her contact point.

 

Seemed a lot of people used the dead drop method. Criminals, assassins, the Railroad. He’d dropped a wooden toy of a princess into the mailbox, then got them moving again.

 

Contact point was an apartment building outside of Goodneighbor, and it would take her contact at least a day to get the dead drop and meet her, meaning they had the night free.

 

And fuck, he needed it.

 

Ever since waking up hard, pressed up against that infuriating woman, he’d been ready to climb the walls. Walking around with her in front of him, that ass taunting him with every step, her smartass comments, the way she’d reach, stretching her back, tits pressed against her top.

 

Fuck. He needed something. Sure, maybe he had a problem. Going just a few days without spending some one on one with a female had him ready to tear someone apart. 

 

“You’re gonna get people talking,” Hancock said, leaning against his doorway as Nate passed him.

 

“People are always talking. Goodneighbor is worse than old suburbs.”

 

“You okay there, sister?”

 

Nate twisted a glare at Hancock. Fucking turncoat. “She’s fine.”

 

Hancock pointed a finger at him, eyebrow ridge cocked up. “I like you, brother, but no one manhandles females in my town. Not even you. So how about she answers, and we all calm down?”

 

The woman flashed a smile far too charming for the snake he knew she was. “I’m fine, John.”

 

“Just playing some kinky games?”

 

“Always.” Was that a fucking wink from her?

 

“We done here?” Nate started pushing at her shoulder to get her moving.

 

Hancock chuckled. “Yeah, we’re done. Have fun, you two.”

 

Nate shoved her into the room at the top floor, rewarded with how she stumbled. “John, is it?”

 

She turned, flashing Nate that same flirty smile. “Jealous?”

 

He walked up until he was just in front of her, looking down into her face. “How well do you know him?”

 

“Let’s just say, I didn’t drug him.” She turned to leave.

 

Nate caught her arm, twisting her back around so she faced him. “Annoying me more than you already have isn’t a good idea, sweetheart.”

 

“Why is that? You can’t kill me, and I’m well aware that isn’t what’s on your mind anyway. Hasn’t been since you first saw me.” She used her hands, still cuffed together, to cup his groin in a tight grip.

 

Nate groaned, cutting the sound short but not before she caught it and rewarded him by stroking those hands against him.

 

He shoved her backward but caught her cuffed wrists before she fell. He took the other set of handcuffs from his belt and hooked her to the headboard in this room.

 

“Lovely. Another bed. You planning on using me as a masturbatory aid, again?”

 

“No, I think I’ll find a less vicious woman for that.”

 

Her cackle followed him as he left her in the room.

 

#

 

Angela pulled her bobby pin from her hair, the one she kept hidden away near the tie, tucked away beneath layers of hair so no one found it.

 

Popping the lock took her a moment with her hands bound, but at least he’d cuffed them in front of her. Doing this blind sucked.

 

She could do it, but it sucked.

 

The pop of the cuffs made her grin. She rubbed her wrist, the skin already darkening from bruising. Yeah, this made up her mind for her.

 

She was not into bondage.

 

Then she thought about Nate putting her on all fours, hands cuffed and. . .

 

Well, maybe she could reconsider the idea.

 

She could ditch out the window if she wanted. Hell, she could walk out the front door. John wouldn’t exactly stop her. They’d developed an easy friendship after she’d given him a heads up when someone wanted her to steal from his storeroom. Idiot had told her who they were robbing, and she’d ran and tattled her ass off about it. It put her in his good graces, and a girl in her line of work could use good graces.

 

But, she didn’t want to go. Part of it was the six thousand caps on the line. He’d left her three hidden in her safe at her place, so only the rest was at risk, and she could use those caps. Another part was that she was having fun.

 

When was the last time she’d had fun? The jobs had all bored her lately, just one simple task after another. No real risk, no real fun.

 

Dreadfully boring.

 

But this man, he wasn’t boring. He screamed fun and interest.

 

Those things had her sitting down in the chair to wait.

 

Less than an hour later, the door to the room next to hers opened, then closed. A soft giggle had her tilting her head.

 

He did work fast, didn’t he? How did he get women to just fall at his feet like that? He couldn’t be that good, could he?

 

“I don’t usually do this," his nightly conquest lied.

 

“Just relax, love. Don’t worry. Trust me.” Moans separated his words, punctuating them.

 

Angela leaned the back of her head against the wall. “Oh, Wanderer, did your rash clear up then?”

 

“Shut up, sweetheart!”

 

She laughed at the frustration in his voice, the muffled whispers between the two in the room.  “Don’t snap at me. I put ointment on your lesions. If it weren’t for me, your penis would have fallen off!”

 

And there went the door.

 

“No, wait. She’s just an asshole, I swear. She’s lying.”

 

Ah, and the clicking of heels going into the distance never did sound so good.

 

The door to her room opened, slamming against the wall.

 

Nate glared at the bed, then jerked his gaze around when she wasn’t there. “So, you’re not only a thief, but can pick a lock, too?”

 

“And a cockblock. Don’t forget that.”

 

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” He shut the door behind him. “Why didn’t you run?”

 

“Why would I? I want my six thousand caps.”

 

He crouched in front of her, setting his hands on her thighs to spread them. “Why fuck up my night, then? What is this, if you aren’t getting fucked, no one else is, either?”

 

“Of the people, for the people, right? We are in Goodneighbor.”

 

He moved his hands up her thighs, until his hands resting on the top of her legs and his thumbs against her cunt, the touch sinking in through her jeans as if she were already naked. “So, if I can’t get fucked until you do, does that mean you’re offering?”

 

“Say my name.”

 

He gripped her hips and pulled her forward with a rough yank. “Sweetheart.”

 

Angela squeezed her thighs around his sides, tight enough it had to be hard to suck in a breath, but he didn’t show it. Didn’t seem to notice as he moved his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her forward. She thought he’d kiss her, but he didn’t.

 

He hadn’t done that yet, had he? He scraped his teeth over her throat, instead, before latching on and sucking hard.

 

Angela shoved his chest. “Don’t you fucking mark me. I’m not some piece of ass for you.”

 

He grasped her wrist and pulled her toward the bed. “If you didn’t want to fuck me, you shouldn’t have run off someone willing to.” He shifted her back to the bed, wrapping an arm behind her back before lowering her to the bed beneath him. “Come on, tell me you don’t want me. I want to hear you lie to me.”

 

She lost her witty remark when he undid her pants and yanked them off, hard enough she slid down the bed a few inches. The promise in those eyes made her glad to already be laying down.

 

This wasn’t him that first night, all charm and sweet coaxing. This was something else, someone else. She leaned up and unsnapped the collar at his throat of his vault suit, then pulled down the zipper. Once down, he struggled out of it, pulling the tight fabric until he could work it over his hips.

 

He went to lean over her, hand already around his cock, drops of precome on the tip catching the light.

 

Angela lifted her foot and it in the middle of his chest to keep him there. “Say my name.”

 

“Sweetheart,” he snapped back, challenge in his eyes.

 

She laughed and pushed with her foot a bit, moving him back an inch from his target. “Come on, Wanderer, say my name if you want me.”

 

“Bitch?”

 

“Try again.”

 

His chest rumbled in what could have almost been a growl, but when her free leg fell open, revealing her cunt to him, his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

 

Bingo.

 

“Angela.” His voice was low and angry, but damn, her name sounded good on those lips.

 

She moved her foot, and he was on her in a second. His fingers slid through her folds first, testing, a groan his answer before pushing into her.

 

Angela wanted to be unaffected, to act like this whole thing was beneath her, but when he stretched her? All bets were off. She dug her nails into his back as she arched off the bed at the fullness.

 

Damn, she’d waited too damn long for this, but most people bored her. Most people were flat and dull and forgettable.

 

She didn’t do forgettable. She wasn’t forgettable so she didn’t fuck with forgettables.

 

Nate was a lot of fucking things, but forgettable wasn't one of them.

 

He set a hard pace, which was everything she wanted.

 

Angela leaned her head up to capture his lips, but he jerked back, eyes narrowing. He gripped her jaw and twisted her face to the side, then pressed his lips to her throat in harsh kisses and bites that distracted her. “You’re the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered against her skin.

 

“And knowing you, you’ve met more than your share of ‘em.”

 

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“I’m working on fucking you.”

 

“Oh, guess I hadn’t noticed. Maybe put some effort into it?”

 

He moved up to his knees, grasping her legs and lifting them to his shoulders, bending her so he could get deeper. “I’ll try.”

 

And then he did, taking her even harder, enough that it stung but fuck, that was the sort of sting she liked.

 

She couldn’t help the desperate moan she released, the one that filled the room beside the gasps and harsh breaths and filthy sounds of him sliding in and out of her wetness. Damn, she could maybe understand why women fell for him if this was the reputation he had.

 

His hips snapped forward as he took her, one hand reaching between them to find her clit. He didn’t look happy about it like he'd rather have just fucked her for his own pleasure but some part of him couldn’t do it, some part of him demanded she enjoy it, even if he didn’t want her to.

 

The annoyance on his face hit her as hard as the touch of his fingers, and she came fast and rough. Even as she tightened down on him, he didn’t stop thrusting, didn’t stop stroking her clit.

 

She squirmed, the touch too much, the stroke of his cock inside of her too much, sending waves of pleasure that bordered on pain through her sensitive body, but he used his weight to keep her in place, rhythm thrown, sweat on his brow.

 

After a moment, he slammed in deep and stilled, cock jerking inside her. His hips pushed forward in slow, gentle pumps for another minute, before he pulled out, the cold air of the room reminding her of the wetness on her, both from his and her own.

 

He laid down beside her, not touching her, expression closed off. His fingers stroked over his left ring finger, something she’d noticed he did when stressed or flustered.

 

She’d guessed he’d been married, what with the ring that had been sewn into the lining of the pack, the one she’d sold because she hadn’t thought it would matter. Now though? Now it mattered. The way he touched that naked skin, the way he stared at his finger, it dug at her.

 

Tomorrow, she’d need to stop at Daisy’s and see if she couldn’t get it back, or at least find out who she sold it to. Daisy wouldn’t have told him, but she’d tell Angela.

 

“This is just a one-time thing. I don’t do repeats.” He kept distance between them like he was terrified she’d reach over and try to cuddle.

 

She laughed before grabbing a shirt from his bag to clean herself up with, ignoring his glare. “Probably for the best. The stimpacks to take care of anything you’re carrying would get costly.”

 

“Aren’t you worried about getting knocked up?”

 

“You shag everything in sight, Wanderer, and none that I’ve seen have turned up pregnant. Your boys must not swim.”

 

“My boys aren’t the problem. I got a vasectomy.”

 

“Oh, so the boys are fine, it’s your pool that’s the problem?”

 

He groaned, so she rolled to her side, back to him, to get comfortable. Tomorrow, they’d head to the meeting spot and hang out until her client showed, and she could use a good night sleep.

 

The click of metal around her wrists had her twisting in time to see him hook her wrists to the headboard. “Really? We aren’t past this yet?”

 

He slid his hand into her hair, and she thought for a moment he’d actually kiss her.

 

Nope.

 

She winced as he yanked the two hidden bobby pins out of her hair. Like she didn’t have more hidden? What sort of amateur did he think he was dealing with?

 

“Past what? You think one fuck is going to make me trust you?”

 

“It should have helped. Fine, but I can’t get my pants back on like this.”

 

“That sounds like your problem, not mine.”

 

“It’ll be both of our problems if you start that good morning wood shit again.”

 

He groaned and sat up, then bent over her and grabbed her underwear from the floor. His fingers brushed her skin as he pulled them over her ankles, then up her legs. He stopped at her upper thighs, casting her a smirk before using his thumbs to spread her open the best he could, with her legs trapped by the underwear. He leaned down and used his tongue on her, pressing it against her clit which was still way too sensitive to really enjoy it.

 

Angela gasped and tried to reach for him, to push him off, but only the smack of her cuffs against the headboard happened. He tilted his head, pinning her with his hands as he licked her harder, mouth pressed against the crease of her legs.

 

The start of another orgasm rose inside her, her stomach warming, and fuck this would be both terrible and wonderful. She’d never been a girl who would come more than once, not comfortably at least. Not that she expected him to care about that. Hell, knowing it would probably make him trying to force another one out of her even better.

 

Just before she came, he pulled back, wiping his mouth on her leg and pulling the underwear the rest of the way up. “Try and get some sleep.”

 

“Oh, you-“

 

He slapped her ass before settling himself in for the night, and leaving her really damned uncomfortable.

 

He’d pay for that.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Nate woke relaxed, a nice change from the last few days. It seemed working off some aggression on Angela had been a good idea. Hell, maybe he’d rethink his whole one and done policy. When was the last time he’d woken up so well rested?

 

He rolled over, ready to try and tempt her into a quick romp before they had to get up, only to find the bed empty, handcuffs open and still wrapped over the headboard.

 

And wasn’t that pretty much what he should have expected?

 

Why did he continue to underestimate her? He rolled from the bed, checking his things. Everything still there.

 

So, she hadn’t robbed him blind this time, and no missing kidneys that he could feel, either.

 

Had she taken off? Six grand in caps seemed like enough of a bargaining chip, but hell, maybe it wasn’t.

 

Fuck. He knew where the meeting was, so he could go on his own, but without her there to smooth over things, the whole thing could turn into a bloody clusterfuck fast.

 

Nate pulled on his vault suit and shoes, hopping out the door to his room as he tried to tie his shoe.

 

“Yeah, brother, I’ve seen lots of men look like that after dealing with Angela.” Hancock sucked on the end of a cigarette as he leaned against the railing.

 

“Where is she?”

 

“Stole a pack of my smokes, then headed out. I think she headed over to Daisy’s.

 

Trying to buy her way out of this? Maybe looking for a weapon? Of course, she could have just grabbed one of his, so that didn’t make much sense. Nate flipped Hancock off before taking the stairs fast.

 

Outside, he saw her walking out of Daisy’s shop, smiling at the ghoul as she backed out, something clutched in her hand.

 

“I’m using rope next time.”

 

She shifted her gaze over, grinning. “Morning Wanderer. Let’s not let the town in on our games, huh?”

 

Nate walked over and grabbed her hand. “What were you buying? What was so damned important you needed to pick another set of handcuffs and sneak out while I was asleep?”

 

She tightened her fist. “None of your damned business.”

 

He slid his fingers into her palm, forcing her hand open, before pulling the item away. Everything stopped.

 

She yanked her hand away, refusing to meet his gaze. “You know what? Fuck you. Finish your shit and let me know when you’re ready to leave.” She stormed over to the bench by the front gate and sat, arms crossed over her chest.

 

Nate stared down at his hand, at the wedding ring she’d claimed she’d sold, the one she must have bought back for him.

 

Why would she do that?

 

#

 

Angela didn’t say shit to Nate while they traveled the short distance to the apartment complex. She didn’t have shit to say.

 

She’d planned to hand the ring off to MacCready or Hancock, to let them take the credit for recovering it. She hadn’t expected him to come storming out and catching her.

 

Not that getting it had been easy. It had taken her all fucking morning. Daisy had sold it to a drifter, some junkie who she’d found trying to put the thing on a teddy bear and begging it to marry him. A few caps and a threat or two and he’d given it up.

 

Leave it to Nate to fuck up her plan, though.

 

Now they sat in the room where she met her client, her legs on the table, ass in a chair, arms still crossed for the best ‘fuck you’ position she could manage.

 

“Why did you buy back my ring?” His voice was soft as he sat on the couch against the wall.

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Come on, Angela. Explain this to me because I don’t get it. I’ve cuffed you two nights in a row, made no secret about how little I like you, but you escape so you can do something nice for me? Explain it, please.”

 

She ran her hands through her hair before reaching for the strip of braided string around her throat, pulling it out of her shirt. She held it up, showing the broken metal with a single jewel. “Did MacCready tell you how he and I know each other?”

 

“He said he punched you in the face once.”

 

She chuckled before pulling the necklace off and tossing at him. “Yeah, he did. See, we both grew up in this town called Little Lamplight. Run by kids, no adults allowed. I talked everyone into letting me be mayor there, and decided that I didn’t want to be just a mayor. I declared that I’d be Princess instead. Well, RJ told me we needed a mayor, not a princess, and punched me in the face. Shortest time anyone has been mayor there.”

 

“That sounds like RJ.”

 

“Yeah, it does. That hunk of metal you’re holding? That’s what’s left of my tiara, this stupid metal thing I’d found one day that I loved. See, I wanted to be a princess because they could do whatever they wanted because they had power. I was so tired of having to prove I was good enough, and I thought if I was a princess, I’d finally be taken seriously.”

 

“And instead you got a fist to the face?”

 

Laughing about it now was easy but at the time? She still remembered how much it had hurt. Not just the broken nose, but the realization that she’d failed.

 

“Pretty much. RJ taught me something important that day, something that changed my whole life. See, I’m never going to be stronger than him, than you, than any man, and it made me realize I needed to be smarter. So, I keep that thing to remind me of that, to make sure I don’t forget that I need to be smarter, that I need to play shit close to my chest, because people like to fuck it up.”

 

Nate tossed the necklace back. “Doesn’t explain why you got me my ring back.”

 

“Because anything you hold onto like that is a reminder you still need. I didn’t want to take that away from you. You running from the memory of your wife by fucking your way across the Commonwealth? Go for it. You won’t hear a word from me, I mean, I steal shit to run away from that punch to the fucking face, right? So, we’re all running, and these reminders? They ground us, keep us moving. All just bits of old metal, but fuck, I wasn’t gonna take yours away.”

 

He dropped his gaze to the ring, which he’d put on his finger, probably so it didn’t get stolen again. “Thank you.”

 

His gratitude grated on her nerves. She went to respond, but before she could, her client walked in, looking as stupid as he ever did.

 

Everything was silent until Nate began to laugh. Not a chuckle, but a full-blown laugh that had him almost falling off the couch.

 

Her client grinned. “Something funny, Charmer?”

 

Nate talked around the bouts of laughter. “I really shouldn’t be surprised it’s you, should I, Deacon?”  

 

Well, that was unexpected.

 


End file.
